


Decorating with Antlers is Never a Good Sign

by sli



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sli/pseuds/sli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The Polish insult included here came from a list of Polish insults I found on the internet. I would be mighty surprised if it is correct. My apologies for messing with the language</p>
<p>Birthday fic for omphale23: F/K, 5300 words, NC-17.</p>
<p>Love, puppies, and any spare internal organs they might ever need to spuffyduds and qe2 for truly outstanding beta work under unbelievable time pressure. My helpless, admiring gratitude for their brilliance, and my apologies for not taking all their advice. "Thanks" also due to spuffy for the title.</p>
<p>Author's wibbling: Holy shit, people. I made a list of Omphale's kinks, threw in a couple of my own, and this happened. I'm still not sure exactly how.</p>
<p>Author's sense of humor: None of the aphrodisiacs mentioned are illegal. They're all real (to someone somewhere) aphrodisiacs of Canadian origin, regulated, sure, but there's an aboveboard industry for them. (Ambergris is the most dubious, as it was illegal to buy/sell raw ambergris in the U.S. at the time.) This doesn't rule out illegally obtaining the same substances, but it makes me wonder about this villain and his understanding of the law.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Decorating with Antlers is Never a Good Sign

**Author's Note:**

> The Polish insult included here came from a list of Polish insults I found on the internet. I would be mighty surprised if it is correct. My apologies for messing with the language
> 
> Birthday fic for omphale23: F/K, 5300 words, NC-17.
> 
> Love, puppies, and any spare internal organs they might ever need to spuffyduds and qe2 for truly outstanding beta work under unbelievable time pressure. My helpless, admiring gratitude for their brilliance, and my apologies for not taking all their advice. "Thanks" also due to spuffy for the title.
> 
> Author's wibbling: Holy shit, people. I made a list of Omphale's kinks, threw in a couple of my own, and this happened. I'm still not sure exactly how.
> 
> Author's sense of humor: None of the aphrodisiacs mentioned are illegal. They're all real (to someone somewhere) aphrodisiacs of Canadian origin, regulated, sure, but there's an aboveboard industry for them. (Ambergris is the most dubious, as it was illegal to buy/sell raw ambergris in the U.S. at the time.) This doesn't rule out illegally obtaining the same substances, but it makes me wonder about this villain and his understanding of the law.

 

Forty minutes into their semi-regular late evening walk, Dief veered across the street and headed down a street not on their usual route. "Diefenbaker," Fraser called, just in case he had suddenly both regained his hearing and learned to obey. Neither of these improbable events having occurred, Fraser sighed, followed Dief, and readied himself to argue against any dinner consisting of fried dough, fried cheese, or fried dough and fried cheese.

Dief trotted ahead as they crossed street after streetlamp-lit street. Fraser was quite familiar with the city, but he couldn't remember ever being on this particular street before. He slowed his pace, taking in his surroundings. More cars than usual in an industrial neighborhood at night. A well-muffled thump and roar issuing from one of the buildings on the left. He spied two figures ten meters down a dark alley and strayed closer, keeping a sharp eye out for illegal behavior.

When his eyes made sense of the scene before him--possibly illegal, but not his chosen field of enforcement--he put a foot wrong backing away and sent an empty bottle rolling loudly into the darkness. The couple froze and shrank further into the shadows, disappearing as Fraser turned and returned to the street.

Dief had also lost interest in the couple and now continued down the sidewalk. Except for a large man wearing a remarkably poorly-tailored pair of leather trousers, the only other sign of life on the street was a lone, shadowed figure leaning against a stoop across the street, smoking a cigarette.

Having learned his lesson from the previous encounter, Fraser kept his eyes averted. His peripheral vision was, however, superior to most, and he was unable to avoid registering the sequence of events. As the large man was on the far side of the smoking figure, and the smoker seemed to be watching the large man approach, the smoker failed to notice Dief's presence until Dief stuck his nose in his crotch. Fraser winced, turning to collect Dief, as the smoking figure burst into familiarly improbable invective.

"Ray!" Fraser called, the warmth he felt coloring his tone.

Ray dropped his cigarette and said, inexplicably, "Oh, fuck me." Stepping forward, he threw one last glance towards the large man's rapidly retreating back, and added, "What the hell are you _doing_ here, Fraser?"

"Just getting some exercise, Ray. Dief has been quite sluggish lately."

As Dief groaned an objection, a car drove slowly down the street, and Ray grabbed hold of Fraser's tunic and pulled him into the alley.

***

For one second, Ray'd thought Fraser was out cruising, but there was the uniform. Pretty hard to imagine Fraser involving the Queen in his pickups. Ray shook his head and poked Fraser in his big red chest. "Not even you just happened to be wandering down _this_ street tonight, that's too nutty even for you."

Fraser frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, now that I come to think of it, Diefenbaker led me here."

Dief grinned up at them and wagged his tail almost like a real dog, and only grinned wider when Ray hissed, "Traitor."

Fraser had plowed on, and was now apologizing to the mutt for misjudging his motives, when he was clearly only interested in justice.

Ray's brain was still reeling, so it took him a minute to say, "Justice?"

"Your stakeout, Ray. Now that Diefenbaker and I are here, we can help you with surveillance. I see you've already been inside the establishment."

Ray glanced down at himself. Black boots, jeans, black t-shirt--oh, shit, eyeliner, too--but no stamp on his hand or forehead explaining where he'd been when. He glared at Fraser on general principle. "Yeah. Went in, had a drink, checked the place out." Shitty techno retreads of music that sucked the first time around, lots of bare skin rubbing on the dance floor. Not his scene, but it would do. "It's a, um, private club. Kind of."

Fraser turned his back to the alley wall and regarded the nondescript door across the street. "And what are we investigating?"

Ray didn't know which was worse, 'investigating' or 'we.' "Nuh-uh, Fraser, not your gig. Especially not in that getup. You just take Dief and head on home, okay? I'll fill you in on the...investigation tomorrow."

Fraser firmed his jaw and for one dizzying second Ray thought he was going to march across the street and demand that the wrongdoers surrender themselves into his care. He'd get swarmed.

"Okay, okay." Ray gave up on his plans for the evening. "We'll stake the place out together, all right? I'm, uh, not expecting it to go down tonight, just ascertaining the pattern of--" Here Ray ran out of official-sounding words, but Fraser was already nodding.

"Excellent plan, Ray," he said, keeping his eyes on the club.

"Damn, you're a fucking beacon. What're you doing wearing the red at night?"

"Well." Fraser paused. "To be honest, there was bit of a mishap with my closet this evening."

"A closet mishap?"

"Yes. And I felt it prudent to stay away for the time being."

"Yeah, well. Good plan," Ray said feebly. "Just, try and stay out of sight, okay?"

"Of course, Ray," Fraser agreed, not moving one millimeter.

***

It was a pleasant turn of events, to be conducting surveillance with Ray instead of returning to the Consulate, where the best case scenario would involve having only Diefenbaker for company. Ray seemed agitated, although it was sometimes difficult to distinguish his normal mannerisms from signs of distress.

There wasn't need for perfect silence, so they idly discussed the recently closed case of the Food Not Bombs volunteer who experienced a reversal of philosophy, several of the open cases on Ray's desk, and the migratory patterns of the snow goose. While he lulled Ray with a description of the latter, from winters in Louisiana and Texas to summers in the Arctic and Greenland, he used the flow of words to cover his inspection of his companion.

Interestingly, Ray seemed more alert to passing cars and the occasional pedestrian than the club itself. He ran a hand through his hair and shifted, slanting light from the street briefly highlighting his features. Ray wore makeup remarkably well, the dark lines emphasizing his fine eyes without giving him an appearance of femininity. Fraser was reminded of protective facial tattoos of the Inuit, or perhaps the heavy black tattoos that traditionally ringed the eyes of Kitikiti'sh men.

He was lost in that train of thought when Ray stretched, his back cracking as he arched into a curve, then said, "Shift's over, Fraser. You want a ride home?"

Fraser didn't have time to reply before some subtle shift in the air further down the alley made him turn and look, only to receive a stinging blow to the side of his neck. "Ray," he said, eyes wide as he crumpled to the ground. His legs wouldn't work, his arms wouldn't work, and when he turned his head, he was dismayed to see Ray collapsing next to him, a large yellow dart sticking out of his t-shirt, his unfocused eyes scowling as he clawed at the wall in a futile attempt to stay upright.

Fraser heard a rumbling growl from Dief, and then everything went black.

When he awoke, he felt...confused, but surprisingly well. Unusually relaxed and comfortable, especially considering his unorthodox position. He lay on his back on a remarkably comfortable mattress, wearing only his undershirt, suspenders, and breeches, his arms bound together in front of him with thick white fabric, his ankles bound together with what must be the same material.

How peculiar. He must look like a mummy, he thought, and giggled at the image. Oh dear. Apparently he was still suffering from the aftereffects of whatever drug they'd been given.

Turning his head, he inspected his surroundings, making brief note of a mid-sized bedroom of recent construction furnished in shades of dark green, with a distinct hunting theme, before he was distracted by the sight of Ray. Ray lay not twelve inches away, his feet also bound together, his hands secured to the bedframe with what were almost certainly his own handcuffs. Like Fraser, he was gagged, and above the gag his still-closed eyes were sooty and smudged with black.

Fraser watched him breathe, counting inhalations and exhalations, until he felt certain Ray wasn't in distress, and then kept watching, fascinated by the sight.

Eventually, Ray's eyelashes flickered, then his eyes slowly opened, squinting at first against the light. He blinked several times, looking at Fraser and around the room, then burst into a frenzy of kicking and twisting, breathing loudly through his nose.

Of course. They should think of escape. Fraser tested his bonds. He could certainly wiggle free, although it would take a good half hour or more of careful manipulation, he estimated. He had just begun the effort when the door to the bedroom swung open and a man's voice said, "Well, hello there!"

As Ray stilled beside him, Fraser lifted his head and shoulders up to see their captor. Caucasian, probable Eastern European descent. Perhaps 1.67 meters and 72.6 kg, with sandy hair and skin tanned to nearly the same color.

"Glad to see you've recovered so well," the man burbled.

Fraser found himself smiling around the gag and nodding politely, before he remembered Ray's instructions in similar past experiences: abductees were not required to be civil with their abductors. He tried out one of Ray's scowls on the man, who chuckled in response.

"Now, I'm dying to know: how on _Earth_ did you discover me? I covered my tracks absolutely brilliantly." The man sat on the edge of the bed and peered at them curiously, a bright twinkle in his brown eyes.

"Jksa dpsdk dki doslazl ppoo!" Ray shouted through his gag, remarkably clearly, considering.

The little man frowned and tilted his head at Ray. "I didn't get a word of that." He reached out a hand towards Ray's gag, then apparently thought better of it. "I have good instincts," he said, reaching for Fraser's gag instead. "It's why I still have ten fingers and nine toes."

After his gag was pulled free, Fraser rotated his jaw and worked his lips and tongue, enjoying the tingly distraction of freedom. "Not an unwise decision. He bites."

The man beamed as if Fraser had offered him a sincere and valued compliment. "So, what'd he say?"

Fraser thought. "The closest I could come to it would be 'Jak Cie W Morde strzele, to Cie rodzona matka nie pozna.'"

The man turned mildly perturbed eyes on Ray. "Well, that's not very nice." Then he shook his head and focused on Fraser again. "So, come on. Level with me. How did you track me to my lair?"

"Am I to understand The Lair is the, er, men's club we were surveilling?"

The man frowned. "No," he said slowly, "my lair is the storefront next to the men's club."

Fraser blinked at him. Surely it was too ridiculous to imagine that...

"Oops," said their abductor.

Ray hissed and burbled around his gag, twisting around in an apparent attempt to whack the man with his bound legs. He stood up from the bed and patted Ray's leg soothingly.

"There, there. Well, I'm afraid the jig is up, is it not?" He beamed at them again. He really had remarkably fine teeth. "You seem like excellent fellows, really, and that location wasn't really working out. Too much commercial grade competition, not enough interest in the superior quality of a natural product," he sniffed. "Plus, I do like a good hunt. Do you hunt, Mountie?"

Fraser blinked at him. This really was a most disconcerting evening. First witnessing public indecency and then Ray's eyes and now this? He was feeling a bit worn out, to tell the truth. "Yes, I do. I have adopted the unofficial as well as the official motto of the RCMP."

Their captor seemed delighted to hear this. "Superb. So I'll just ensure myself an adequate head-start, and then the hunt can begin, all right?"

"Honestly, I'm afraid this is all a misunderstanding. The wisest thing for you to do is surrender yourself into my custody."

"Pssht. Water under the bridge, and not very sporting." The man carefully lit a horn incense burner and placed it on the bedside table. "There now. You boys have a good time, and I'll be on my way."

 

***

Fraser was having an off night. It took _forever_ for him to wiggle out of his bonds, and then his fingers seemed slow and clumsy as they tugged at Ray's. As soon as Fraser worked off Ray's gag, Ray asked, "What was that you said to him, Fraser?"

"Jak Cie W Morde strzele, to Cie rodzona matka nie pozna, Ray"

Ray blinked at him. "Wha? I don't speak Polish. Well, I know how to say tak and nie, matka, and fiut, that's about it. What'd you say?"

"Hmm...more or less it would translate as 'I'll hit you in the face so hard, your mother won't recognize you.'"

Ray grinned. "Cool. I'll have to learn that one." Then he lifted his head to inspect the room. "Nice digs. I was expecting something more in the warehouse style."

"It is a step above the usual, I'll grant that." Fraser levered himself off the bed, wobbling a little as he stood. "I'll just ascertain our escape route, shall I?"

"Yeah, shall you," Ray muttered, watching Fraser test the door.

"This room is creepy, Fraser."

"I thought you found it relatively pleasant."

"It's full of dead things." Skins and antlers and beady-eyed little stuffed critters. It made Ray's skin crawl. "I'll take a warehouse any day."

"Yes, our abductor does seem to be a hunting aficionado." Fraser said, abandoning the door. "I don't think we'll be able to escape that way, Ray. It's solid construction and the hinges are unfortunately on the other side."

Ray jerked his hands again. He _hated_ being cuffed with his own cuffs. It was fucking _humiliating_. He twisted his hands, trying to see if he could pull a Fraser and dislocate a thumb--verdict: maybe possible but _ow_ \-- as Fraser reported the bad news about the heavy, locked shutters over the only window.

Shit. This was not how Ray'd hoped the night would go. And it was weird, but the cuffs were beginning to feel kind of good. Like, the rest of his body was all hazy and not really there, but the pressure on his wrists was sharp and solid and real, in the way things _should_ feel real. He was pulling against the cuffs on purpose, following the real feeling, when he realized that he couldn't feel his toes, his dick was hard, and this was _not normal_.

"Fraser! I'm feeling funny. I think that incense stuff is poisoning me."

 

***

Fraser turned from where he'd been contemplating the air ducts, swaying slightly with the motion. He'd clean forgotten about the incense. An unforgivable oversight on his part.

"I'd clean forgotten the incense, Ray," he said as he headed for the bedside table. "An unforgivable oversight on my part."

"Yeah, yeah, just turn it off," Ray said, his voice squeaking a little with panic.

Fraser blew on the burning stick, then licked his fingers and pinched it out with a sizzle. He smelled his fingers thoughtfully--ambergris, certainly, but what else?--and then carried the vessel to a far corner of the room, well away from Ray. Returning to the bed, he cracked his neck from one side to the other, attempting to gauge the degree of his incapacitation. "You're quite correct, Ray. Judging from our response, the smoke almost certainly possessed mind-altering properties of some kind."

Ray sagged, his arms still secured above his head, every line of his body conveying despair. "This is bullshit. We've been poisoned, we're going to die."

"We are not going to die."

"How the hell do you know? I could die."

Fraser paused and changed tacks. It was entirely too plausible that Ray would somehow manage to die solely in order to win the argument. "I don't think our captor intended to do us harm, merely detain us a while."

"Yeah, right. Crazy freak drugged us."

"Ray," Fraser said, as he finally pieced together the clues the room provided. "That skin on the wall belonged to a harp seal. And over the doorway are a fine set of elk antlers."

Ray appeared to be attempting to chew through the handcuffs. "So?"

"Both are animals--well, parts of them--are considered to have aphrodisiac properties."

Out of the corner of his eye, Fraser could see Ray mouthing the word 'aph-ro-di-si-ac.' "Like oysters? And Spanish fly?"

Fraser sat on the bed and cleared his throat. "Actually, the reputed stimulatory properties of oysters is believed to date from the days when limited sources of zinc in the diet could have serious health consequences. And the substance known as Spanish fly is actually the blister beetle, although commercial preparations bearing the name are usually nothing more than pepper, and the blister beetle is toxic enough to be fatal."

Ray's black-lined eyes blinked up at him. "Huh. Bad luck."

Nodding, Fraser continued. "In this case, elk antlers are ground into powder and consumed in that form, while the same is done to the reproductive organ of the male harp seal."

Ray's knees flew towards his chest as he doubled up, instinctively protecting his groin. "Ugh!"

"Indeed. Well, Ray, I think the thing to do is work on freeing you from your restraints, during which time our heads should clear, and then make our escape through the air conditioning duct."

"I hate you."

 

***

 

"Okay," Ray said. "Get my feet untied, and then you can pick the cuffs." It'd been a long time since Fraser'd touched Ray's calf. Felt nice. Ray frowned. "Hurry up, Fraser. I don't have all night."

"Almost there," Fraser replied. "Just a moment...there." He sat up with a proud smile. "Your feet are now free."

Ray experimentally bent and shook his legs. Better. "Now the cuffs, c'mon."

Fraser frowned at Ray's wrists, his tongue poking at his lip. "I'm afraid our captor has removed my kit and hat, and I lack anything else that would make for a suitable pick."

"Damn it," Ray groaned, then looked around the room for anything else that would do. Dead thing with fangs, dead things with scales. Dead thing's antlers. "Unless you can pick cuffs with a beaver tail, I don't see it happening."

"I don't think a beaver tail would be an ideal lock-picking tool, no."

Fuck. It was a nice bed, and his body still felt all warm and tingly. He wouldn't mind spending some time here with Fraser in his fantasies, but _this_ , tied to the headboard with his _own_ cuffs, stared at by beady-eyed animals, Fraser fully dressed and not fully sexual, was nobody's idea of a fantasy.

Fraser lay down on his side, sighing. "It's a pickle."

Ray closed his eyes and wished for death. He felt Fraser scoot closer, reaching out to touch Ray's wrists. "You're already bruising."

"Not at bad as that psycho is gonna be when I catch him."

Fraser just tsked like a grandmom and traced the handcuffs with his finger.

"What are you doing?" Ray said, his breath catching, his eyes still closed shut. He didn't want to look up and see Fraser over him, just inches away. That would be too fucking much.

"Looking for a weak spot where we might break the chain."

"Oh."

Fraser's hands were warm and strong, and his arm brushed Ray's ear. Ray could smell him, the wholesome, outdoorsy scent. He shifted his hips uncomfortably. Fucking drugs.

"Ray," Fraser said, close to Ray's ear.

"What?"

"Perhaps our abductor failed to empty your pockets."

Ray's eyes flew open. "Nope, no, nie. No keys there, Fraser," he said, shaking his head. "I'd feel them if they were."

"Still, it's worth checking." And Fraser was already wriggling down the bed so his face was level with Ray's crotch, reaching in his pocket to look for--

A big, fat hard-on. Fraser's hand froze.

"Drugs," Ray croaked. "Bad drugs."

Fraser's hand slowly slipped out of his pocket. Ray's dick was sorry to see it go.

"Uh, Fraser?"

"I should check your other pocket, Ray. Just to be thorough." Was Fraser's voice always that husky, or was it the drugs?

"Uh..." Ray was going to lose his mind, half of him saying, 'hell yeah, you can feel me up anytime, big boy,' and half about ready to shit himself. When Fraser leaned over him and worked his hand into Ray's other pocket, the horny side gained some percentage points. "Fraser?"

"No keys here, Ray."

"No." Ray shook his head. "No keys."

 

***

He should really take his hand out of Ray's pocket. Instead, he braced himself with his other hand and looked down at Ray's tense face. Ray's pupils were dilated, whether from the drugs or arousal, Fraser couldn't say.

Fraser pulled his hand slowly out of Ray's pocket and placed it on his side, feeling the heat of his skin through his thin t-shirt. He rubbed gently, trying to reassure Ray with touch.

Ray's eyes focused on his, sharpening, and a slow smile spread over his face. "Bad drugs," he said, and this time it was a gift.

Fraser smiled down at him and nodded. "Very bad drugs."

Ray made an abortive movement up towards him before collapsing back onto the bed and glaring up at the handcuffs. Undeterred, Fraser pressed along the length of his side and slid his hand under Ray's t-shirt. With his arms secured over his head, Ray's skin was stretched taut over his ribs, his belly slightly concave. Fraser skimmed Ray's skin with his fingers, stroking up and down his chest before finding and teasing a nipple.

Ray's gaze grew heavier, sultrier still, his eyelashes shading his eyes as he arched up into Fraser's touch. Ray's lips parted, and Fraser moved instinctively to kiss him. Ray's mouth was every bit as agile and expressive as the rest of him, and Fraser could feel Ray coaxing him closer, drawing him in. His hand slipped around to Ray's back, pulling their bodies together, and Ray pulled his mouth away.

"Skin," Ray gasped, "Shirt."

Fraser nodded and shrugged out of his suspenders, then pulled his shirt up over his head as quickly as he could, before eagerly returning to his exploration of Ray's body. Pushing Ray's own t-shirt up to reveal the skin of his chest, Fraser slid one arm under Ray's shoulders, supporting him and, hopefully, relieving some of the pressure on his wrists. Thus tight against Ray's side, Fraser's groin came in contact with Ray's hip and he groaned, thrusting involuntarily.

Ray writhed against him. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ I can't _do_ anything, Fraser."

Kissing the side of Ray's neck and licking across the fine angle of his collarbone, Fraser murmured, "Shhhh," and slipped his fingers under the waistband of Ray's jeans where they hung low across his hips. Ray wasn't wearing any underwear, Fraser discovered, his hand sliding down across the rough crinkle of Ray's pubic hair.

Ray thrust up in the air, wordless sound escaping his mouth, and Fraser pushed down with his hand, stroking again from Ray's hip to chest.

"Fraser, Fraser, please," Ray begged, and the sound was lovely. He dropped his hand to Ray's fly and popped the buttons one by one. When he was finished, Ray lifted his hips up off the bed and Fraser pushed his jeans down far enough to easily draw out his cock. Long and beautifully hard, arching above the pale curls, it was a wonderful sight, and Fraser stroked it slowly, lovingly, feeling the pulse of Ray's arousal.

When he finally tore his eyes away and look back at Ray's face, Ray's skin was flushed and sweat was beaded on his upper lip, his eyes dark as they stared down at Fraser's hand masturbating him. Fraser leaned closer, kissed him again, and Ray opened up to him with utter passion and urgency, thrusting his tongue into Fraser's mouth as his hips rocked up to meet his hand.

As Ray's erection tightened and swelled, his lips fell away from Fraser's, opening to let out a deep moan as he thrust up over and over again, ejaculating over Fraser's fist and his own skin.

***

Ray let his head slump back onto Fraser's arm, trying to catch his breath. Holy shit. Oh, god. That was--he turned and kissed Fraser again, desperate and grateful and amazed.

"Good drugs," he said, breaking the kiss.

Fraser's smile was amazing, as pure and gorgeous as it had ever been, but suddenly full to the brim with sex. How the hell had Ray missed that? He smiled back, dopey and happy and content, and then realized that Fraser was still rocking against his hip, hard and horny in his work pants.

For one dumbass second, Ray forgot that he was cuffed to the headboard and tried to reach for Fraser's cock. Growling in frustration, he jerked his wrists again, making Fraser reach up with one come-smeared hand and hold his wrists still. _Fuck_ , he wanted to touch him.

"Fraser," he said, jerking his head. "Come here."

Fraser frowned, looking confused. "I--"

Ray smiled and licked his lips, slow and obvious. "Fra-ser. Come here."

Fraser's breath caught and Ray worried for a minute--could he do CPR with his feet?--but Fraser was breathing again, and still frowning, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not--"

"Fraser," Ray repeated, "For the last time. Come here."

And _finally_ , Fraser shifted, unbuttoning and wriggling out of his pants, pushing them off his legs. He straddled Ray's hips, that ass coming to rest right on top of Ray's damp cock. Ray's eyes blurred and he damn near purred. "Good. Now come on."

Fraser lifted up on his knees, bracing himself over Ray until his cock was almost close enough. Ray opened his mouth and looked up at Fraser from under his lashes, waiting. Fraser groaned and grabbed his cock with one hand, guiding it to rest on Ray's lower lip. Ray closed his lips around it, sucking gently, urging Fraser on. Millimeter by millimeter, Fraser slid into Ray's mouth, Ray stroking along Fraser's cock with his tongue. When Ray's lips met Fraser's hand, he paused and backed off, sucking harder.

Fraser's cock lurched and throbbed and Ray smiled as best he could, because this was going to be _easy_. Fraser was on edge, trembling with it, panting hoarsely over Ray. Looking up at Fraser again, Ray slid his mouth back down Fraser's cock until his lips kissed Fraser's fist again. This time, when he drew off, he stayed there, waiting for Fraser to follow, waiting for Fraser to rock in and out of him, making himself feel good on Ray's tongue.

Ray bent his knees and spread his legs, bracing himself, and twisted his wrists, getting some more of that hot burn back. He imagined Fraser sitting on his cock, imagined Fraser braced, sweaty and shaking above him, his cock deep in Ray's ass, and he sucked harder.

Above him, Fraser's face was flushed, his lips tight with concentration. Ray winked at him and he froze, throwing his head back. Ray tightened his lips and pulled back so Fraser came on his tongue, nursing the last drops out of him as gently as he could.

***

Fraser sank back down on his heels, his thighs still shaking. Ray let his head fall back again and took a deep breath, then looked up at Fraser, his dark-smudged eyes serious now.

"Get me out of here, Fraser," Ray said.

Fraser shook himself, suddenly intensely aware of the setting, his nudity, Ray's handcuffed hands. He climbed off Ray and stood by the bed, testing his balance and clarity of mind. Beside the usual post-orgasm languor and the highly irregular shock of what had just happened between them, he felt relatively normal, his mind clear and senses sharp. He dressed himself in the pieces of uniform available to him, and walked back over to the door.

The lock was a standard indoor privacy model, literally child's play to pick. How on earth had he found this door impenetrable earlier? Glancing around, he saw no convenient bobby pins nor toothpicks--at that he momentarily considered checking Ray's pockets but flushed and pushed the thought away. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on a stuffed and mounted snow goose, of all things. Stroking his hand over the bird's wing, he found an appropriately sized flight feather and gave a sharp tug.

Holding the feather up for inspection, he tested the strength of the shaft. Satisfied, he returned to the door, crouched, and applied the feather to the lock. Moments later, the knob turned freely in his hand, and the door swung open into the hallway.

Peering down the hallway, Fraser saw no signs of life. On the floor to the side of the door was a tidy pile of clothes, all that had been taken from them. Resting on top of his folded tunic was Ray's handcuff key.

Returning to Ray's side, key in hand, Fraser reached over, careful not to touch Ray more than necessary. Ray's wrists were chaffed and lean under his fingers, and he wondered if he'd able to able to touch Ray like this again.

The cuffs fell open, and Ray slowly stretched and brought his arms down, groaning at the strain on the sore muscles. Fraser stood by the bed, for once not having the faintest idea what to say or do. The decision was made for him when Ray grabbed hold of his suspender and pulled, bringing Fraser abruptly face-to-face.

Ray looked determined and debauched with his ruined makeup and full lips, and he leaned forward and kissed Fraser hard, the intention behind it frank and unmistakable. Pulling away, Ray said, warningly, " _Good_ drugs."

Relief swept Fraser like a cool flood of water, washing away his anxiety. "Excellent drugs, Ray. The very best."

Ray nodded, his face relaxing. "Okay then. Gotta get my ass dressed, and then we can go catch that aphrodisiac-animal-hunting freak."

Just another day on the job, then.

 

 

 

 


End file.
